


Except It Is

by satan_copilots_my_tardis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-07
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-09 09:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satan_copilots_my_tardis/pseuds/satan_copilots_my_tardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer is constantly stalking Sam's dreams and Sam is pretty sure he doesn't like it, except for the fact he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Except It Is

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I just wanted some Samifer and this is what my brain produced for this under-loved couple. How did it end up being my longest oneshot? No idea, but I really like it. Takes place during season 5 and there are implications of sexual content and some language. Oh Destiel side pairing because I love them too. I hope you enjoy and leave a review

It is two am the first time Sam awakes to a frost covered motel room. The musty smell that all of these featureless rooms, all of them running together and having long since lost their identities to him, is being dampened and replaced by the distinct smell of cold wind, dormant trees blanketed in white, and the immediate contradiction of ice burning frigidly against skin. It is two am when Sam wakes up and drags his fingers over the frost covered sheets and marvels in the reality of the ice melting against his fingertips. He knows, of course, who is responsible for the motel room that is so similar to the ones that he’s spent his entire life in and the frost that covers the fabricated space in his dreams. But it is beautiful, and he thinks, just this once he doesn’t need to search the room for the devil and hash out the same issue again. The apocalypse can wait for them while he sleeps, and he can spend one night not arguing with the monster. 

Lucifer moves in his peripheral vision and he can’t help turning to look at him. The window is covered as well, but the devil still stares out it like he can see the entire universe laid out before him. For a moment he ponders whether or not the devil actually can. As if finally deciding to acknowledge the mortal man in the room, in the disrupted space of Sam’s dreams, the hunter feels put off at the nothingness he finds on the man’s, Nick’s face. Lucifer has always been open in his expressions, he has never looked like this before, the smiles, the glares, the disapproving frowns, and the confusion that his true vessel would inspire, of all the things that he’s seen flicker across the devil’s face this has never been one of them. 

It’s a knee-jerk reaction that makes him want to ask what is wrong with the devil. So many years of his father and of Dean and he is hardwired to question any look of distress, any flicker of helpless loss. He bites his tongue and says nothing. The devil doesn’t deserve his sympathy and he is not willing to give it. Inside him his soul aches, and he pretends that it’s a trick of the light when the devil looks back towards the window, silent as a single tremble shimmers over his body. Sam pretends that he doesn’t begin to associate the frost around the room with sadness, and he tries to ignore the feeling that the frost was a result of his screaming the previous night. The first time Sam wakes up to a frost covered room he wonders why the devil didn’t ask him to say yes and believes the devil is trying subtlety as his next means of persuasion. 

\----

It’s been three weeks since then. Dean and Sam have been fighting for their lives against an entire coven of vindictive, creative, powerful, Satan-worshiping witches who weren’t up to date on the whole “Sam and Dean Winchester are not to be touched on the pain of a torturous/smite-y death” rule that heaven and hell had established until the apocalypse is over. So he has a deep cut over his eyebrow that just won’t stop bleeding, a headache that won’t stop throbbing, and a throat that is raw from coughing up his own lungs that keeps bleeding and keeps making him throw up in the shitty motel bathroom in their shitty motel on the edge of a shitty town that is now, ungratefully, free of evil, vindictive, creative, and powerful witches. He’s tired and sore and he just wants to stop bleeding down his throat and vomiting it all out, he wants to be able to get drunk like Dean and sleep off the initial pain and just deal with the ridged, sore muscles the next morning. 

But Sam knows sleep with be no relief for him that night. Lucifer is back, he is no longer quiet and there is no more frost. There are lies barely veiled in truth, and persuasions, and arguments, and creative nightmares trying to nudge him in the direction of consent. Lucifer still tries, Sam still says no. Tonight will be no different and he doesn’t want to wake up feeling like he hadn’t even slept the night before. He was beginning to believe there should be no such thing as nights for him since his dreams have simply become an extension of his waking day. Lucifer didn’t care, and Sam didn’t mind. As long as the devil didn’t care for him he knew there would be no possibility that he would say yes. 

When he wakes up in his dream at nearly five in the morning his room is not just covered in frost, but there are also small snowflakes falling around the room. 

Lucifer has started this dream sitting on the edge of the bed Sam always wakes up in, and he is staring at him with one of those intense blue glowers that makes him think the devil can see his soul. He’s fairly sure he can. He sits up, back against the headboard and stares at the monster, his head still throbs, the cut still stings, and his throat is still raw. He’s not in the mood for this tonight. As it turns out neither is the devil. 

“Why do you do this to yourself?” They’ve had this argument before. 

“I won’t say yes.” 

“Not that, though it still puzzles me why you would want to remain incomplete, why do put yourself in situations that are clearly meant to get you injured?” There is true confusion in the devil’s eyes and Sam frowns back at him in return. 

“If we don’t stop the creatures out there who will?” 

“And you expect to stop all of them? Protect the entire planet after all that you’ve been through?” Lucifer leans closer and Sam is petrified under the weight of the stare. “Do you not deserve peace more than any other on this planet?” It’s a rhetorical question, and that disturbs him all the more. Lucifer believes he deserves peace? He knows that he doesn’t. After all of his mistakes, after releasing the apocalypse on the world, he knows that peace is the last thing he deserves. So what comes next is no surprise. “I would give you that peace if only you would let me.” His answer is still no. They sit in silence for a moment and Sam catalogs the burns over Nick’s skin, after the first frost he noticed them beginning to appear. He thinks that was why he had been so lost that night. Lucifer leans away from Sam and stares at the opposite wall. Sam knows he can hear his thoughts, and it is clear the subject is still not to be broached tonight. 

The snow is not coming down any harder, but the flakes become larger until it almost looks like they are feathers, he tries his best not to think about how beautiful it is. The flakes don’t touch either of them, just swirl down onto the floor, and bed, and every available surface. Something warm runs down his temple and he raises his hand to wipe away the trickle of blood he knew would be there. The cut gives a light throb of displeasure at his gently prodding fingers and he wonders if it actually had needed stitches. When he glances back up Lucifer’s eyes are back on him and he leans forward, hand outstretched and his fingers replace Sam’s own as he lays a gentle caress just above the cut. The softness of the action surprises him; he’s never been touched like someone is afraid he’s going to break apart. In fact he doesn’t think he’s ever felt more fragile in his life. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t like it, except for the fact that he does. When cold fingers start to accumulate a familiar warmth he jerks away and Lucifer is left stunned. 

“No.” He doesn’t say what for. He doesn’t need to. Lucifer’s hand is already retreating, though there is a confusion on his face like he knows what Sam doesn’t want but he doesn’t understand why or if he’s done something wrong and Sam realizes he’s seen that expression before, on Castiel. He had gotten too close to Dean, their lips had nearly touched and his brother had freaked out, storming from the room and snapping about needing a drink. Castiel’s confusion had been mixed with hurt, and he was glad Lucifer’s wasn’t because he might have had the same urge to comfort the angel like he had Cas. He can’t be healed the next morning because Dean will give him those same suspicious glares and cold attitude that makes him regret the decisions that he’s made even more. He regrets so much already, he’ll do nothing more to break his brother’s trust. Lucifer moves forward again and Sam moves away again to stop him from touching his skin. “No.” It’s sterner this time. 

“I won’t heal you. Just let me take away your pain.” The way he says it makes Sam doubt what exactly the fallen is talking about. But he doesn’t flinch this time when barely warm fingers brush softly over his brow. He doesn’t move as the fingers trace over the planes of his face, his eyes, his nose, cheeks, his lips, just lets the angel’s quiet exploration. He pretends he doesn’t give a gentle sigh when those lukewarm finger tips run reverently over his lips. He pretends his eyelids aren’t getting heavy, and that he doesn’t notice that the snow has stopped falling. 

When he wakes up the next morning he feels more rested than he has in months. His head doesn’t hurt, the cut above his eyebrow has scabbed over and it does not throb, and his throat, although raw sounding is not bleeding anymore. When Cas shows up later in the day and heals him and Dean he pretends he doesn’t notice the weary, suspicious look on the angel’s face when he feels the reminisce of Lucifer’s grace in his system. Sam pretends that nothing has changed between himself and the devil. He pretends to forget the man is an angel and that his skin is softer than he imagined it would be. He pretends that the archangel still doesn’t care about him, and that he still doesn’t care either.

\----

“Sam. Sam. SAMMY!” The hunter looks up suddenly, shocked into awareness as his brother scowls at him. 

“What are you doing over there? Looking at porn?” Dean snaps. Sam blinks down at his laptop like he’s only just remembering it exists and noticed he’s been reading the same paragraph for the last, had thirty minutes really slipped past that quickly? 

“Sorry, I’m…I’m just tired.” It’s an understatement of the week. He hasn’t slept in three days between their current hunt. He hates flesh-eating ghosts. Especially flesh eating ghosts that just so happen to haunt the motel they were staying at the one time that they had been trying to avoid trouble. They’re in hot water and there’s no way for them to leave their room and they don’t have enough weapons to keep the eight or so ghosts at bay for another night, Cas isn’t answering their calls, and things are looking bad. To top it all off Dean was scared and he was worried and he was attacking Sam, and Sam just needed some sleep. “The ghost that started this is going to keep creating more like it, and the bodies have been digested by the souls, the only way to kill it is find its original body which was killed in a violent murder apparently, but the police reports say they never found the corpse.” He grimaces here. “Just a motel room splattered in pretty much someone’s entire blood supply.”

 

“Yeah well if somebody used me to paint the walls I’d be pretty pissed too.” Dean responds all wrong. There is no sarcastic touch in his voice and there is no light in his tone as he furiously tries the first speed dial number on his phone. Sam knows who he’s calling. The same person he’s been trying to get in touch with for five days. Dean’s been sick with worry for long before their unintentional hunt started to go awry. They’ve gone without word from Cas for longer than that, but he still cares about him, misses him, worries about him, loves him. When Dean woke up screaming, clutching the palm print on his shoulder and screaming, screaming, screaming for his angel Sam nearly called out for his, upon realizing who is angel actually is he stopped mid-prayer. Since that moment Dean hasn't stopped calling for Castiel. Sam is still tempted to call for his own angel. He still doesn't.

This goes on for several hours and Dean has killed the battery of his phone. But that's all right, Bobby is on his way and they still have just enough time for him to arrive and save their asses before it gets dark. They didn't expect the ghosts to want to keep them so bad. They didn't expect the flames licking out from under the bathroom door, across the carpet, over the beds. But they were pleased to find the original ghost’s corpse hidden in the only wall that wasn't burning. In an act of sheer desperation they rip it from the wall and throw the desecrated corpse into the flames and they hear the soul give a final shriek. But the flames don't stop even as the ghost dies and Sam's head is already to light to even consider rushing through the flames that have cornered them in the room. He knows that Bobby won’t make it there in time, he knows that Castiel isn't coming, he knows that there is only one person that can save them now. So he calls out and he prays and as he and Dean collapse with Lucifer's name burning on his lips. He feels a cold wind sweep through the burning room and he knows his angel has come to save them. He’s terrified and it’s stupid but he trusts Lucifer not to do anything to him or his brother while they’re unconscious.

He’s not awake and he knows that, because he knows that he probably isn’t actually in a motel room, and he really doesn’t want to be in one after such a close call. And that is when the scenery changes. Now he is in the front seat of the Impala and he sees Dean, sleeping in the back, covered in ash. It’s dark outside and the motel is still coughing the blackest smoke into the sky, contrasting terrifyingly against the setting sun. It looks like a hundred demons are fleeing the room. He could have been part of that smoke and for a minute he is terrified. Then Lucifer taps on the window and he is breathing a sigh of relief and climbing out of the car to lean against the hood with the shorter man. 

“Am I-”

“You’re still sleeping.” 

“Okay.” He had suspected as much. His next question is harder to force from his throat and he is grateful that the angel can read his mind. 

“I did come when you called.” He stares at Sam unwaveringly. “You and your brother are safe.” There’s a beat of silence and Sam just watches Lucifer. He looks so human, so normal, unlike Castiel and the other angels that he’s met. Even Anna had a rigidity to her that made her inhuman, untouchable. Lucifer doesn’t have that. He looks perfectly relaxed leaning against the hood of the Impala in baggy jeans a gray tee and a green button-down. He looks perfectly relaxed in his withering vessel. How long does he have left? Lucifer’s eyes catches his then, and he feels a sharp tug in his stomach like he’s slipped on a patch of ice and his body is trying to process the loss of the ground before his back finds it again. Only his body hasn’t met the ground. He’s still falling. Not long then. “Maybe a month or two, three if I’m lucky.” He doesn’t ask him to say yes, doesn’t use the sudden rescue as leverage. “Thank you.” Ah there you are ground. 

“What?” Why? The archangel gives him the most sincere smile that he’s seen in months if not years. It is soft and sad and beautiful and his breath is taken from him in a sudden whoosh. He braces one hand on the hood and feels it covered with frost. Sadness. 

“You called for me, you prayed to me when you were in trouble Samuel. You trusted me to save you.” The words are soft and his eyes are earnest and Sam doesn’t recognize the look on the devil’s face, but he’s seen it before. Always on Dean, on Cas when they’ve come to an agreement after a fight, or when they think the other isn’t looking and he really needs to stop using them as a reference when he’s with Lucifer because it isn’t the same with them. They’re not in love. The smile dims a little and he refuses to acknowledge that his thoughts are the reason why. 

“Thank you for coming.” A cold hand settles over the one he has on the hood of the Impala and it is just as cold as the frost under his fingers. 

“I will always come when you call Sam.” They haven’t had a conversation about personal space yet, Lucifer respects his boundaries, but if he gets any closer they might need one. The hand that isn’t over his own, why hadn’t he retracted that yet?, is on his face and it is too familiar for his liking. He turns away and tugs his hand back; he doesn’t dare look the archangel in the eye. He’s afraid of what he’ll see there. He wonders when his life got so messed up that he would worry about hurting the devil’s feelings. The blonde man moves back to his side after a moment and they watch as the smoke becomes little more than a trickle from the building and the sky becomes just another black smear overtaking the world. He doesn’t know what to say but he also knows he doesn’t want to wake up. 

“Do you know where Cas is?” the question leaps from his throat before he can think. 

“Yes, your friend was attacked by a garrison lead by Raphael. He was badly injured but my brother and I have been watching over him.” Sam wants to ask more but his throat it too tight and he is too terrified. His eyes shoot back to the dream image of his sleeping brother and he is horrified. The hand finds his again and it’s the simple brush of cold skin over the back of his hand is what shakes him from his terror. “Castiel will be fine, I brought him to Gabriel and he is making sure that he heals properly. He will return to you as soon as he is able. His grace was nearly ripped from him.” Lucifer glances over at his brother and frowns. “I imagine it put your brother through quite a bit of pain, but they will both be fine, just a few more days.”

“D-did you save Cas from that attack?” the angel blinks at him like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Of course. My brother is your friend, and very important to Dean, I would not wish to see you suffer if harm were to come to him.” Sam thinks he’s never going to find the ground again. “I keep telling you that I would do anything to keep you happy Sam. Did you think I was saying this in jest?” 

“But only if I say yes.” Sam’s voice is choked and the words are squeezed out with quite a bit of difficulty and are preceded with a strangled, breathless sound. 

“No, I do not want to discuss this now Samuel. For just now, I want you to rest. We have all night to talk, every night. For now rest.” Lucifer faded from the dream and Sam had a nights worth of normal peaceful sleep. He almost missed being able to talk to the angel the whole night. He told himself it was just so he could get answers from him, but he knew the truth and so did the devil. 

\----

He woke up on Bobby’s sofa at noon the next day. Dean was on the armchair, head hung as he stared at his phone with quiet desperation. 

“Dean?” His brother looked up at him brokenly before the anger settled. 

“You called for Lucifer! You told him where we were!”Sam can’t say he wasn’t expecting that, but it still hurt. 

“I had no choice you knew there was no one else coming and there was nothing else we could have done! We were trapped Dean, we would have burned to death.” 

“So you call the devil to save us!?” He gives up trying to reason with his brother and rises to his full height, glowering down at his brother. 

“Yes I did. And it worked. Lucifer came and he saved us and he left us alone. And you know what Dean, he knows where we are. The sigils don’t mask us from him and they don’t keep him out of my mind. I’ve dreamt of him every night since I left and since I came back. He hasn’t hurt me. He’s not even asking me to say yes anymore. And he saved Castiel’s life.” Most of what he just said went into Dean’s “to be used in a later argument/emotional breakdown” file and he knows all his brother heard was that Cas had been in trouble and he was injured and the devil was involved. 

“What has he done to Cas?!” Desperation and terror, just like Sam’s own was, is immediate and about ten times stronger. 

“He saved his life Dean! Cas got attacked by some angels led by Raphael and Luce saved him. He took Cas to Gabriel and said Gabe was taking care of him. He was pretty badly injured and Lucifer said we’d probably be seeing him in a few days.” Dean still looks horrified, and worried, and seasick like he can’t stand the thought of his not-so-indestructible angel in harm’s way. Sam sighs and begins to pray. There’s the flutter of wings a moment later and a cocky,

“Hello boys.” And then Gabriel is standing in the middle of Bobby’s living room. 

“Hey Gabe, is Castiel doing alright?” The archangel looks surprised before he masks it with a snort of disbelief and a shrug. 

“About as well as you’d expect after almost getting his grace ripped out.” Sam winces; he didn’t want Dean to know how bad it could have been for Cas. If the breathless, pained noise that comes from somewhere behind him is any indication Dean is devastated. He thinks it is all his fault that Cas is hurt. It isn’t, except that it is both their faults. Had the angel not met them none of this would have happened. Gabriel notices the strangled silence from the brothers and sighs. “He needs a few more days of rest, but he’ll be back here as soon as he can. He misses you two terribly. Always worrying about you, not that I blame him. Trouble always seems to find you two. And anyone who associates with you. It was a good thing my brother was there to save Cas or you would be short some angel mojo right about now.”

“Thanks for helping him Gabe.” The Trickster waves them off. 

“He’s my brother.” That’s all he says before he’s gone in a flash of feathers. Dean still looks rather broken when Sam turns back to face him again, but the anger is gone and replaced with a lot of regret and just a tinge of hope. 

“Cas is going to be fine, and then he’ll come back Dean. And that’s only because Lucifer saved him, just like he did us, no strings attached.” There’s suspicion in his eyes now and Sam sighs. “I’m not going to say yes.” He promises, but for the first time he isn’t sure if he means it. 

\----

Three days pass since Dean found out his angel was nearly killed. Three days since he learned that his angel was still alive. But it’s been a week since he last saw Cas and its wearing him down. He knocks back more alcohol in a day than he has since just after their dad’s death, his sleep is fitful and his nightmares are worse, he doesn’t know how he’s even still standing by the end of the week and Bobby and Sam are avoiding him at all costs. Sam is probably sleeping like a baby and frolicking around his subconscious with Satan. The fact his brother has been lying to him for so long is burnt up between the worry for his angel. It shouldn’t be so easy for him to ignore the fact Lucifer is invading his brother’s mind each night but Sam’s been fine for this long and he can’t, he can’t think about anything other than Castiel’s wellbeing. He’s so out of his mind with worry he doesn’t hear the flutter of wings in the middle of the room. It’s the sudden rush of warmth that he feels in his shoulder that causes him to turn around. 

“Cas” And there he is, looking exactly like he did when he saw the man a week ago (eight days his mind corrects). The only difference is the repenting warmth on his angel’s face. His throat is tight and he does not feel his eyes surge with tears that he will not shed because he’s Dean Winchester and he does not cry ever period. So he doesn’t cry, he does what shouldn’t feel so easy, so natural, he surges forward, gripping the lapels of Castiel’s customary trench coat and then he is kissing the angel. It isn’t soft or loving like he’d imagined their first kiss to be(not that he’s ever imagined it in the first place because he totally hasn’t, except for the fact he has) it’s rough and messy and relieved and their walls finally break under the weight of all the things they’ve been through. 

“Dean.” Chapped lips breath into his mouth before the angel is pressing back just as fiercely. 

“Missed you.” The words slip out between bruising kisses and his fingers thread into his hair to keep him in place. They haven’t seen each other in a week. Dean is determined to keep not an inch of space between them ever again. Their clothes are getting in the way of that. 

\----

Sam is on a beach. Well no he really isn’t, but Lucifer makes it feel like he’s on a beach. The sand is warm and perfectly white and there are beautiful cliffs all around them. The water is black and reflects the starless sky and without the moon the entire space would appear empty. The air is warm and it smells like the sea and Lucifer is leaning back a few feet from where he is laying. He is disarmingly normal again tonight, jeans and a blue tee-shirt and bare feet. Sam’s enjoying the feel of sand under his feet too after he followed the angel’s lead and took off his own shoes. There’s no frost tonight, Lucifer isn’t sad tonight is what his mind translates the statement into. Lucifer suddenly looks around before making an amused huffing sound. 

 

“What?” Sam questions he hadn’t thought something particularly funny, at least he doesn’t think he did. 

“My brother has returned.” Lucifer makes a face that is torn between amusement and distaste that Sam doesn’t understand but the angel clarifies for him without needing to be told. “If the way his grace is fluctuating rather erratically is any indication, Dean is greeting him rather enthusiastically.” Ew. Sam feels his expression mirroring Satan’s. 

“Thank you.” He doesn’t say for what, Lucifer already knows and just shrugs it off. “where are we exactly?” He decides if they aren’t arguing they might as well talk. As long as the devil is being civil (and if he’s going to be honest Lucifer’s always been civil to him) and not asking him to say yes there’s nothing wrong with them chatting. 

“An island that I visited as a child. I thought that you would appreciate the change of scenery after the last time you were here.” He does and it doesn’t bother him anymore that the angel actually knows what he wants without having to voice it himself. He’s almost gotten used to the mind reading as well. “Would you like me to stop?” Lucifer’s looking at him squarely, expecting an honest answer and it surprises Sam that he needs to think about his response. 

“No, I don’t mind it that much really. But that’s not a yes” He tacks on quickly just in case it was a trick. He doesn’t think it is, but it makes him feel better. The archangel sighs softly, sadly and there is a slow breeze of cold air that swirls around them. Lucifer’s sadness is always tangible to him and sometimes he wonders how he caused it. 

“I’m not asking you to say yes Sam.” He really doesn’t need to wonder though; whenever they broach this subject the reaction is always the same. The hunter isn’t naïve enough to think that Lucifer has found this avenue hopeless, but his sadness, and disappointment, and longing make him think that there must be another reason. There has to be something that Sam just isn’t getting out of these nightly conversations that he should. “Sam…” His name falls from the angel’s lips with such an air of hopelessness that he is not surprised when the ocean stops moving and the sand is turned to snow. It leaves him frozen too. But Lucifer doesn’t say anything else, just stares at Sam’s wide-eyed confusion for a moment before he turns back to the frozen ocean, not saying anymore. The rest of the devil’s sentence is lost and Sam is still left wanting more to explain that tone which he’s never heard before except in his own voice, the night Jessica died. He hears Lucifer say his name in the tone of a broken heart and Sam doesn’t hear his voice again for a very long time.

\----

“Dean I do not believe that this is an appropriate time to talk to Sam about this.” Castiel’s voice is quiet but stern and Sam looks up. He’s tired, and he can’t focus, and he’s frustrated. Cas is probably right. Now is not a good time to approach any subject with him. Unless it has something to do with Lucifer and the answer to why the devil has stopped speaking to him, and why he’s going to get frostbite over his entire body, and why it feels like he’s hurt the devil, and why he wants to make amends and- and…. Sam’s fingers thread themselves into his long hair as if it will hold him together, and get rid of his headache, and solve all his problems. 

“He’s falling apart, we’re having this conversation now.” Dean’s voice leaves no room for argument and Cas just sighs and nods. “Sammy?”

“What Dean?” the coldness of his voice catches his brother off guard but he clears his throat and pushes on. 

“Is something going on with Lucifer?” Sam sucks in a shocked breath. Was he just punched? “Cause every night for well, about two weeks you’ve been in a piss poor mood and at night Cas says he can feel the displeasure of Lucifer’s grace pouring out of you. The entire room gets covered in frost some nights Sam.” Dean’s probably thinking he’s pulling the ultimate bitchface right now. 

“We’re…fighting, I think…” 

“You think you’re fighting with the devil?” something must have happened to the universe because Dean is actually leading a real conversation for the first time in his life. Maybe sleeping with an angel that he actually loved was good for him. 

“He’s not talking to me anymore. he just is there, and…I-I think he’s sad. There’s always frost when he’s sad.” There’s a mildly incredulous look on his brother’s face and he just rushes through the rest. “And I don’t know what’s wrong or what to do and I just don’t want to sleep if I have to see him like that.” For a minute he thinks Dean will laugh, or scream, or glare at him. But his brother just stares and there’s a hard line of worry in his frown as his brother starts to fall apart in front of him. Falling apart because he might have done something to start a fight that he’s not even sure he had that upset Lucifer. It’s a whole mess of confusion that normally Dean wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole. But Sammy looks scared and lost and broken, so there’s really only one thing he can think to say. 

“And have you told him that?” Sam looks at him like the entire world has recovered from the apocalypse. Sam thinks it’s the best advice that he’s gotten from his brother ever. 

\-----

The dream is in a motel room again and it is covered with frost. It is two forty-five am. Sam sits up immediately and looks at the edge of the bed where Lucifer is sitting. 

“Are you angry with me?” He doesn’t expect an answer but it does get the devil to look in his direction. “You won’t say anything to me; you don’t even ask me to say yes.” He doesn’t know why that statement hurts him so much. Doesn’t he want him anymore? Lucifer makes a sound that is deep and mournful, it is short and unintentional and he knows his angel was reading his mind. “Is that it? Do you not want me as your vessel anymore? Fine. I don’t care, but I don’t need you here if all you’re going to do is give me frostbite.” He pretends his voice isn’t as hurt as Lucifer’s was the last time he’d spoken to him. He pretends that he doesn’t know what Lucifer hasn’t been saying all this time. Pretends that he hasn’t heard the double meaning between all of the things the devil has said to him. 

My heart breaks for you.

We were made for each other, from the beginning of time.

There is no one for me but you Samuel. 

He would take anything that his archangel has to say now. 

“You’re unhappy here with me. So why don’t you just leave? There is nothing keeping you here.” He doesn’t call the man into his dreams. He doesn’t force the angel to stay. He would be more than happy to see him go. Except he doesn’t want that anymore, he wants gentle caresses over his face, and sunsets leaning against the hood of the Impala together, and warm sand under his feet on a moon light beach. There is no broken sound preceding the action and there is no warning of bed springs shifting as Lucifer moves closer, just glacial fingers clasping his jaw and bringing their lips together. It is all soft and desperate, cold and warm, broken and loving. Sam’s not lost anymore as he’s forced to accept what’s been in front of him for so long. 

He’s the one who makes the greedy, hopeless sigh against the devil’s lips and pulls him closer. Cold hands are all over him, caresses once again like he’s fragile and he wants Lucifer’s hands everywhere and loves the way his lips follow and the frost is disappearing around them. There are soft sounds of need and pleasure and Sam regrets missing the obvious for so long as their skin burns against each other’s, Lucifer is still cold, but his heat more than makes up for it. 

It’s only the next morning that Sam realizes that Lucifer never did speak to him the night before, but he decides that’s alright because they established something last night. And Sam is grateful that he isn’t Lucifer because he would have the room covered in snow by now if he was since his time with the man was running out. Nick has maybe a month left and the end of the apocalypse is fast coming. He decides that it’s probably a good thing that Lucifer didn’t speak last night, because he knows no matter what the devil said his response would have been yes. 

\----

It’s a week later that Team Freewill decides on a plan to stop the apocalypse. Sam doesn’t want to destroy the world and he knows that Lucifer simply cannot stop the apocalypse; there are too many people who are waiting for it to happen. But he doesn’t want to say yes, not like this. Things are different now, but the rest of the world doesn’t know that, the rest of the world is about to die in a blaze of holy fire and hellfire and he and his brother are the only ones who can stop it. When he goes to sleep the night before they are supposed to enact their plan his entire room is covered in thick layers of snow. 

He keeps his mind clear of what he and his brother have planned but he still thinks Lucifer knows. The angel always knows. This might be their last night together. This might be their last night on earth. 

“I…” nothing else is forced from his throat. Whatever he could have possibly said to the devil would have been painfully inadequate compared to the things that they have not said to each other. Cold fingers caress his cheek softly and Nick’s skin looks more painful than Sam has ever seen it. Thing are happening too fast, and the things that mattered the most to them came too slowly. 

“Tonight I want you to forget the apocalypse.” Lucifer whispers and Sam is reminded of the first time he had ever meet the man. The archangel’s heart might break for him because of what he’ll have to do, but Sam’s heart breaks for all of the things Lucifer’s never been able to do and the things that he’s already done. There will be no reconciling with Michael tomorrow. There will be no saving the world. There will be the apocalypse and things will end and Sam will be the one standing amongst the ashes. So tonight he’ll forget the apocalypse. Tonight he’ll let his angel gather him in his arms and he’ll cherish their last night and savor the sight of the snow melting and of Lucifer’s eyes looking at him like they are the only thing in this world that matters. Tonight it’s just the two of them. 

\----

They walk into the room and Sam’s heart leaps into his throat, all that power, all that hurrah that had pulsed through him after he drank the copious amounts of demon’s blood was gone. His heart was in his throat and he has nothing else to say. But he keeps talking anyway. 

“We’re not here to fight you. I’m here to say yes.” Lucifer gives him a look that is all too familiar and sad. The window is covered in frost and he is being overwhelmed by Lucifer’s misery at his statement. Or maybe it’s his own.

“Do you mean that?” Dean is trying his hardest not to move away from the devil as he comes closer. His steps are slow and deliberate and Sam is falling apart piece by piece the longer his angel stares at him.

“Yes.” It’s the only thing he can say and Lucifer is right in front of him and there are icy fingers stroking his cheek like they have so many times before. Sam’s eyes are not misty, except for the fact they are. 

“I love you Sam.” His heart is not breaking because Lucifer has to be lying, even though he never lies to Sam. Dean’s not in the room anymore this is just another one of Sam’s dreams because his angel is kissing him. 

“Yes, yes, yes.” Sam whispers softly against his lips and when Lucifer pulls away the devil smiles softly. His lips brush lovingly against his brow and he sighs against his skin. 

“No.” And just like that the world isn’t ending. Just like that the apocalypse is over. One word and Lucifer rebelled again and Sam is safe from their destiny. “No Sam.” He doesn’t think the devil could love him, except he does. He isn’t in love with Lucifer, except he is. And he doesn’t think that it could all be so easy, so perfect, except it is.

**Author's Note:**

> So I hope you enjoyed the rather fluffy ending… again I have no idea where this came from it just happened… CURSE YOU PLOT BUNNIES!!!!!!!!!.... yes, so leave a review if you enjoyed.


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